


Birth & Consumption

by brohne



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Fisting, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Bodily Fluids, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Oviposition, Past Rape/Non-con, Torture, Vampirism, forced oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brohne/pseuds/brohne
Summary: The first anchor fell and forever changed the fate of one of Daggerfall Covenant's best warriors. Now, bereft of his soul, he is enslaved to Molag Bal's will and must endure horror after horror from which even death cannot release him. But in all the pain and terror, there is one saving grace. Count Verandis Ravenwatch.





	Birth & Consumption

**Author's Note:**

> Before you continue, please take careful note of the tags. This incident takes place after the first trailer and before the Confrontation trailer.

 

_You diseased filth, you should be grateful I have found a use for you._

 

 

Why was it taking so long? He clenched his fists, the metal manacles cutting at his wrists as his abdominal muscles spasmed. Already stretched beyond where they were meant to be, each wave sent shocks of pain across his middle and through his back. If only he wasn’t stuck lying propped with his back against the cold stone wall, hands chained over his head and barely able to breathe for the gag in his mouth.

“It will be over soon.” A cool rag was laid against his forehead, though the voice did more to soothe him than the rag. He managed to move his head and fingers stroked through his sweat soaked hair. “Don’t strain. Let it come naturally.”

Easy enough to say, but this ‘birthing’ process was every bit as painful as the implantation had been. He shuddered and gasped as overworked muscles protested the movement. Only a month gone by and yet it felt like decades. He cracked his eyes open, looking down at himself. He didn’t even recognize his own body anymore. He had preferred the rag-covered skeletal look of the soul shriven to this swollen, bruise-mottled and tormented frame. But he’d been chosen for ‘special attention’ due his unwillingness to bend to Molag Bal’s will.

He’d endured through the more conventional tortures. Beatings, whippings, being burnt alive, being fed to the clannfears, but each time he came back he’d been more determined to resist.

Then things had started changing. First it had been the gang rape by dremora churls that had left him cowering in the back of his cell for days. Then Mannimarco had become involved, finding ever more debasing things to do to him and to force him to do. Each time he thought they’d finished with him they had a new horrific experience waiting for him. If it had been normal torture he might have held up, but this, this was just …

A muffled groan escaped as another spasm rocked through him. He just wanted it to be over. If only he had a knife. He’d slit his belly open and be done with it. Anything to be through with the humiliation of carrying around chaurus eggs like some bloated corpse. He was—had been—an elite warrior, a champion of Daggerfall, a knight in service to the High King, reduced to this, a repository for a monster’s progeny.

“Breathe, child. Breathe.” The soft words halted his line of thought and he opened his eyes again. Verandis knelt next to him. He feared he’d see pity in the deep red eyes but saw only concern. Chill fingers rested on his arm.

“Don’t despair. He wants you to take your life. He revels in driving you to that point. Feeds off of it. We cannot give him what he wants.”

He didn’t know if he had the strength to continue like this. It wasn’t so much the pain as the utter humiliation. Pain he could endure but not this. He sagged against the chains, head dropping to his chest. He didn’t even open his eyes as the door of the cell rattled open.

“Verandis. Come to watch the show?”

He tensed, hearing the all too familiar voice. What was Mannimarco doing here? Surely he had more important things to be doing. Verandis didn’t reply, though there was a shuffle of cloth next to him.

“Eager to have your chance at him again? Well then, let’s help get this over with.”

For a moment he thought they meant to do as he’d wished and just cut him open, but then someone was unshackling his feet. He only had a brief moment to wonder what the churls were doing as each grabbed a leg and then they pressed his knees toward his chest.

The gag muffled his scream as the weight on his stomach sent agony sweeping through him. It felt like being fucked with the knife all over again, just with the added pressure of each egg as it forced its way out. At least the knife had killed him. How long could this last? Surely it had to end soon. In a way it reminded him of when he’d got the runs from eating spoiled food as a boy. Just when he’d thought it was over, it would start all over again.

He couldn’t stop shaking, the clank of the chains above and the sneering laughter of the churls only sending his despair to new depths. He was never going to escape this. He wasn’t even human anymore. Just some empty vessel to be used however Molag Bal saw fit.

“Gather them up. Don’t want to waste perfectly good chaurus eggs.”

The cold grip on his legs left and he took a tentative deeper breath. He started to straighten his legs only to have them sharply smacked away. Was it over? A thunderous ache spread through his middle, but a sense of relief filled him. The agonizing pressure was gone. His breath hitched but he managed to steady himself.

“Make sure we have them all.”

There was no warning, just sudden searing pain. He gagged on a scream, legs flailing. He hit something solid and there was a snarl.

“Stop. Enough. Let me see to him.”

“Really, Verandis?”

“Yes, I will bring you any that remain.”

A malicious chuckle. “Who am I to stop you debasing yourself by touching this filth?”

Verandis didn’t reply.

The words stung. It was true. From the moment the dremora’s sword had pierced his back he’d lost any claim to humanity. He’d become a hollow rotting thing, a mindless slave, a plaything on which they could act out their degenerate desires. Perhaps it was his own fault, rushing into the fight without properly assessing who he faced. He’d learned his lesson, and many more since.

The clang of the cell door shutting had him opening his eyes. The room appeared to be empty. He tentatively stretched his legs out, wary of the tenderness along his middle and the sharp ache between his legs.

“Giroac.”

He slowly turned to look at Verandis who once again crouched next to him. He couldn’t read the look on his face. Something between distress, frustration and worry. Why was he here anyway?

“We need … there might be an egg or two left. They must be extracted.”

Giroac tensed and shook his head. He’d know if there were more, he was certain of it. The heaviness in his middle was gone.

Verandis grimaced. “I must be certain. You’ve been through so much, I don’t want you to have to suffer unnecessarily.”

Unnecessarily? Every fucking thing he’d gone through had been completely unnecessary.

“Please, please don’t look at me like that. I am so sorry.”

There was no time to prepare himself. Verandis reached down and pressed along his stomach. He groaned as pain surged through him, everything narrowing down to the pressure of Verandis’ fingers.

“Oh my child, I am so sorry. I feel at least two more.”

He frantically tossed his head. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“We cannot leave them. It will only cause you greater pain later.”

_Just let me die,_ he wanted to tell Verandis. To beg him. But even death was no escape. A sob escaped as Verandis pressed down just below his navel. A gush of fluid followed. Pressure built again and then was gone, much quicker than before. He collapsed back against the stone wall behind him, body quivering with fatigue.

“You’ve been so strong through all of this. I admire you so much for that.”

He turned to look at Verandis who stroked his fingers across the red stretch marks that laced his stomach. Verandis’ weak smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“As soon as we are done here, I will heal you.”

Done? Weren’t they done already?

Verandis seemed to sense his confusion. “I distinctly felt two, but only one came out. I’m going to have to retrieve the other manually.”

It took several moments for the full import to hit him. He shook his head.

“If I heal you while it’s still lodged in your gut it’s only going to hurt worse on its passage and undo any healing, or the damn thing will hatch and eat its way out. If you allow me, I will be as gentle and quick as possible.”

After a few moments he nodded. Anything to get this ordeal over with. Verandis didn’t smile but the tightness around his eyes eased. He untied the gag and tossed it away and then unlocked the chains allowing him to finally lower his arms, though he remained chained to the wall.

“Thank you,” Giroac managed. Even to himself his voice sounded strained, coarse.

“Don’t thank me just yet. Knees up if you can.”

Giroac complied as best he could. Everything already hurt so much that he didn’t even feel Verdanis’ fingers enter him. It wasn’t until he started pressing on Giroac’s stomach that the abnormal movement inside became apparent, along with a deep ache that sharpened rapidly.

“Don’t tense up. I’ve got it.”

Breath harsh he dipped his head and forced himself to relax. It didn’t last long. Verandis had to be disemboweling him by accident. He couldn’t even scream as agony seared through him. He tossed his head as a low guttural moan escaped.

“Damn those vermin.” Verandis’ voice came from somewhere far above, outside the mind-numbing torment. Warmth flooded him, banishing the pain, and he finally took a full breath. Pain faded before the tingling glow along his middle. Part of him was utterly mortified that Verandis was doing this, but they’d been forced to do similarly intimate things to each other before. This was different though. Verandis had offered and he’d had the opportunity to choose. Something he hadn’t had since he’d first been brought to this vile place.

He looked up at Verandis who had his eyes closed in concentration. Giroac found himself wanting to reach out and run his fingers through the long brown hair. Wanting to feel something soft.

“I’ve got it. Damn slippery thing. Not much longer now.”

Giroac wrapped his fingers around the chain attached to his manacles and tried not to arch his back. The electric tingle of healing magic made him want to squirm. Freed from pain he found himself in an awkward predicament, his body had begun to respond in embarrassing ways.

“I see my healing is doing the trick.”

“Gods, please …” Giroac said around a groan as Verandis raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s not-I’m not … please hurry.”

“As you say.”

Giroac couldn’t hold back the shout as Verandis freed the egg, leaving him finally empty and entirely conflicted. He ignored the heavy warmth between his legs that begged for attention and focused instead on Verandis. The vampire’s skin was nearly translucent, his eyes pools of red in blackened sockets.

“How long?”

Verandis jerked his head up to look at him. “What?”

“How long?” Giroac asked more forcefully.

Verandis blinked at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m alright.”

“Answer me.”

Verandis dropped his gaze, fiddling with the blood-covered egg he still held.

“I won’t feed on you. Not this soon after …”

“You helped me.”

“This isn’t something that needs repayment! I hate seeing you suffer!” Verandis surged to his feet. He hurled the egg across the cell. It splattered on the rock wall. A smile twitched at Giroac’s lips.

“Do you think I enjoy knowing you are being starved?”

“No, that’s not—I’m not feeding on you.”

Giroac braced himself against the wall and stood. His legs shook but he managed to walk as close to Verandis as the chain would allow, avoiding the puddle of effluvia as he did so.

“Don’t let him win, Verandis. Don’t wait until he forces you again, or until you can no longer control yourself.”

Verandis turned and looked down at him, sorrow filling his eyes. “I’ve hurt you so many times. From the very moment we met I’ve fed on and used you. Why would you offer this?”

“Because I’ve realized that none of that is your fault. I’ve been made to do things just as horrible. As you said before, this is how he loves to torment us. It’s not just rape of our bodies, but of our minds. We must choose to help each other or succumb.”

A wan smile crossed Verandis’ face, revealing overlong canines. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you speak this much before.”

Giroac shrugged. “Never had a reason. Now are you going to eat or not?”

“Oh, dear child,” Verandis shook his head and stepped close, “you have no idea how delightful you taste or how I must restrain myself around you.”

“Take all you need.”

Verandis stepped closer, forcing Giroac to tilt his head back further to maintain their gaze. He wasn’t lost on the fact that it also bared his throat. The first time he’d met Verandis here in Coldharbor it had been as nothing more than a slave to feed on. He would never forget the horror and panic as the massive winged form had first pinned him down, fed on him, and then raped him. He’d only realized later that Verandis had no control over the lord form. No more control than Giroac did when sent to Nirn to fight and slaughter his countrymen. They were both slaves but that didn’t mean he had to let that fact infect his view of himself. He could choose this.

“You’re certain?” Soft hands gripped his bare shoulders.

“Do I have to pour it into your mouth myself?”

Verandis lowered his head and took a shuddering breath, his fingers tightening for a moment. He leaned in, his hair brushing Giroac’s cheek. Giroac closed his eyes as cold lips traced along his jaw and then down his throat.

“I promise not to feed too deeply,” Verandis murmured against his neck. “May I offer you something in return?”

A hand slid down his abdomen but stopped just above where his hair grew thicker. The offer couldn’t be clearer.

“Please,” Giroac whispered.

A nod from Verandis and then those large fingers wrapped around him, drawing a soft hiss as Verandis began to stroke him back to full hardness. Giroac held his breath, waiting for the pain of the bite. A nip followed by a soft kiss made him gasp. Verandis increased his pace, nearly distracting Giroac as he bit down. Giroac’s knees gave out and only Verandis slipping an arm around him kept him upright. Between the feel of Verandis’ mouth working against his throat and the hand on his cock, he quickly lost himself to the sensations.

When he finally came back to himself he was lying on the ground, a threadbare blanket tucked around him. He glanced around the cell. How long had he been out? He spotted Verandis standing near the door to the cell. A small shiver worked its way through him. Of all the times Verandis had fed on him he’d never had it feel quite so … exquisite. Could it be because they both consented to it? Did it matter that he’d made the choice this time? He liked to think so.

“Verandis?”

Verandis started and then turned. “Thank the Eight, you’re awake. I thought I’d gone too far. How are you feeling?”

“Lighter.”

A bare hint of a smile ghosted across Verandis’ face as he walked over and knelt next to Giroac.

“I am glad to see you back to something resembling your normal self. I hope … I hope you aren’t offended by my forwardness earlier.”

“You mean am I offended that you jacked me off while feeding? Kind of hard to be offended when it felt that good. Besides you’re the one who had sex with your meal.”

Verandis’ mouth fell open as he stared. “I-I … my lord, did you have to put it that way?”

Giroac smirked then reached up and grabbed the collar of Verandis’ robe. He pulled him down, kissing him hard.

“Next time you need to eat, you come find me.”

The stunned look on Verandis’ face faded into something almost affectionate. “I’ll do that.”

 


End file.
